


Laughter

by Avocado



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Elves have no sexual dimorphism, First Kiss, Fluff, Gen, Give bofur the love he deserves, Reference to sauciness, Second Person, as in their gender is never discussed, human reader, nonbinary reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28882851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avocado/pseuds/Avocado
Summary: “I suppose it doesn’t matter, so long as they make me laugh.”
Relationships: Bofur (Tolkien)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Laughter

**Author's Note:**

> Something short and sweet for the cold months. 
> 
> Thanks to my darling M who let me springboard ideas off her <3

It had been a cold night when you’d all had the conversation. You were on the opposite side of the campfire, tired but smiling whenever someone cracked a joke, glad to finally sit down after a long day of travelling.

Bofur loved your smile. Even when the world felt at its darkest, like they’d never get home to Erebor, the way you grinned always made him feel a bit lighter. He couldn’t tell you that, of course. You wouldn’t look twice at a dwarf like him. But he could still watch, appreciatively, and try to make you laugh.

The conversation was loud and boisterous, and Thorin hadn’t told them to quiet down so things were more rowdy than they usually were. So it hadn’t seemed strange for the conversation to switch to the topic of sex, and from there what everyone found most attractive in a partner.

Beards, it was agreed on. There was nothing better than a dwarrowdam with a nice thick beard to hold on to. Apart from that everyone seemed to have a different opinion on the subject. Dwalin said he preferred a sturdier build, whereas Kíli liked his partner to be more slender. Ori had just blushed profusely and hid in his writing work.

“What about you? You’ve been awfully quiet all evening!” Fíli announced at you. You’d smiled and looked into the fire for a moment before declaring:

“I suppose it doesn’t matter, so long as they make me laugh.”

Bofur’s eyes had widened. He’d scarcely been able to believe his ears. Because that meant he had a shot. With _you_.

You’d locked eyes with him over the fireplace, and you’d given a little smile. He didn’t know if it was really meant for him or not but he was damned well going to find out.

From then on he’d taken every opportunity he could to make you laugh, if it was just a little snicker when he made a play on words, or a jab at one of his fellow dwarves that would make you full-on howl and double over (inevitably stopping the party while you composed yourself). Thorin would fix him with a stare at those times, knowing exactly who the culprit was, but Bofur would just shrug and grin.

He was always by your side, and if he wasn’t, one of you would seek the other out. Eventually you had to start sleeping on separate sides of the camp as you would stay up into the small hours whispering jokes to each other and collapsing into giggles, keeping the rest of the company awake.

“Bofur, I’m glad you’re here,” you whispered one night after the hysterics had died down.

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” he replied. Your eyes had held for a long moment before you snuggled down in your bedroll and closed your eyes, a content little smile on your face. 

He wanted to tell you how he felt. He did. There just never seemed to be a good time between giants and orcs and Thorin waxing lyrical about their home. 

But, when they finally got to Rivendell, he figured he might as well take his shot.

Noticing how uncomfortable you’d looked at dinner, he’d gotten up on the table and launched into song - the bruises from the dwarf-thrown potatoes had been worth it to see how you’d clutched your gut in laughter and clapped along. Clearly, you’d wanted to say something to him afterwards but you’d been shooed away somewhere with some elf maidens (or, at least, he assumed they were maidens, it was hard to tell). Probably for tall people business, though he thought as a human you had less in common with elves than dwarves. Either way he’d lost track of you until that evening. 

“And where are you going?” Nori had asked as he pulled on his coat. The guest chambers they’d been given were comfortable enough, even if the beds were far too big, but the main problem was that you weren’t in them. 

Bofur had decided to remedy that.

“None of your business,” he said, with a smile, tugging his hat down on his head. The rest of the party didn’t even need him to say who he was looking for, there’d just been a cheer that had gone up as he left the warmth of the building to search for you.

Rivendell was a large place for such a small dwarf, and he got a lot of looks from elves, but he didn’t pay them any heed. There was only one tall folk he was looking out for tonight. 

He’d found you in one of the gardens. You’d been fitted into some elven clothes. He didn’t like that. Luckily, it looked like you didn’t either, from the way you kept shifting and trying to readjust your jacket, but he couldn’t deny how attractive you looked in the moonlight, no matter what you were wearing. 

(Or, even better, if you weren’t wearing anything at all).

Clutched in your hands was a lute which you were strumming gently on. This was a surprise to him, he didn’t know you played. But you were so lovely, sitting on a stone bench, your eyes wandering over the flowers, he felt like it would be a shame to interrupt the moment with words.

Carefully, he reached into his breast pocket and retrieved his flute. When he began to join in with your melody you jumped a little but had quickly settled into a smile when you saw who your duet partner was. Between you both you lit up the garden in your own tiny concert. You laughed as he danced over to you - for such a sturdy dwarf he was, of course, light on his feet - and he sat down next to you as the song ended.

“If I’d have known I had an audience, I’d have charged admission,” you joked, elbowing him fondly. 

“If I’d have known you could play, I’d have gotten you one of those a long time ago.”

You sighed and laid the instrument down. “I found they’re prone to breaking when you carry them on the road. I’ve lost lots of good lutes that way. One of the elf girls lent me this one when I mentioned it to her. Or… one of the elf men?” 

Your brow furrowed as you tried to remember and Bofur laughed.

“It isn’t just a dwarf thing then! Everyone thinks they look the same.”

“Yes, all of them have the same sort of sour look on their face.”

At the same time, the two of you mimicked a pinched-face elven expression, and started laughing. When your hand landed on his thigh Bofur swore his heart stopped dead in his chest.

Realising what you’d done, your eyes trailed from where your hand was up his body, to his face. You’d both stopped laughing now. The air had changed. It was… heavier. Serious.

“Can I kiss you?” Bofur asked, his voice scarcely more than a whisper, as if he believed if he said it too loudly he’d scare you away. You chewed your lip and your face fell for a second. 

Once again, his heart stuttered when he saw your expression. It wasn’t a good day for the poor old thing.

“Is that another joke?” you whispered back. His eyebrows skyrocketed.

“Mahal, no! Wanting to kiss you… love, that could never be a joke.”

You smiled, and reached over to him. Your lips were soft and warm on his against the night air. His hands carefully came up to hold your face and drag you deeper into the kiss. Your mouth opened and he felt a swipe of tongue across his bottom lip and by all maker if he wasn’t the luckiest dwarf that ever existed, to have you here, now, with your hands on him.

He pulled you into his lap and you shrieked playfully, but he didn’t give you time to recover before he went back to his kiss. He needed to feel the weight of you against him, even if it did mean he had to reach up a bit to touch you. Right now, he didn’t care. 

You giggled a little bit as he moved to kiss along your neck. 

“What?” he whispered, running his lips over the shell of your ear. 

“Your moustache is tickling my face!”

“Aye, and it can tickle somewhere else too,” he growled, and you squealed with delight. Mahal, if you kept squirming that way, he was going to —

The sound of someone clearing their throat made you break apart. An elf stood in the gardens, glowering at the pair of you. With sheepish looks the two of you carefully untangled yourselves. Your hand easily slipped into Bofur’s as the you left and headed back to the guest rooms. 

On the way, Bofur held out his sleeve. 

“I think you should take a feel of this,” he said. With a furrowed brow, you did so. “What do you think it’s made of?”

“Wool?” you hazarded. 

“No, it’s... boyfriend material.”

Your eyes went wide and you laughed before resting your head on the top of his.

“You realise we’re never going to hear the end of this,” you said into his ear as you stopped outside of the bedrooms. 

“It’ll be worth it,” he replied, pulling you in for another kiss. 

“He did it!” shouted one of the dwarves who was watching at the window, and Bofur felt you smile against his lips as a cheer went up from inside. 

**Author's Note:**

> Reader: I’m in love with Bofur  
> Thorin: ...  
> Reader: ... BOFUR DEEZ NUT—-


End file.
